


Last Call

by Sandoz (Sandoz_Iscariot17)



Category: X-Men (comics)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/M, Memories, Reunions, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:23:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandoz_Iscariot17/pseuds/Sandoz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kitty Pryde and Pete Wisdom reunite at Harry's Hideaway, almost in spite of themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Call

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://lyssie.livejournal.com/profile)[**lyssie**](http://lyssie.livejournal.com/)'s prompt "Where did the hours go?" at the comics [ficathon](http://latenightcuppa.livejournal.com/426258.html#comments). Characters belong to Marvel Comics.

  
He looks older. There are deeper lines on his forehead, and a small scar under his eye that she doesn’t recognize. Kitty touches it before she can think to pull her hand away.

“You’ve noticed my new beauty mark, eh?” Pete says with a lopsided smirk. _That_ she recognizes.

“Greasy git,” Kitty shoots back, flicking a dark lock of hair off his face.

He shifts his body on the bar stool, close enough that his arm almost brushes hers, but doesn’t. She doesn’t know if she wants him to. _Where did the hours go?_ Kitty wonders. She only agreed to go to Harry’s Hideaway with Pete Wisdom to talk about a student exchange program for the Jean Grey School, but three hours and two sobrieties later, they’re still sitting close to each other.

“If you haven’t missed me, you’ve at least missed calling me a greasy git. Y’know, Pryde, you’re the only American I could--”

“I missed you.”

That shuts him up. They both reach for the glasses on the bar and down their amber whiskey in perfect synchronicity. A song on the jukebox punctures the silence between them, and as the Ramones demand to be sedated, Kitty remembers another pub an ocean away, another night with Pete and Brian and Meggan and Moira…and Kurt. She bites her lip. A different Ramones song had played on the jukebox that night: “Baby, I Love You.”

Pete’s eyes darken and his face becomes gravely serious. Kitty wants to say something flippant and deflective, like, _“You’re doing that broody British spy thing again,”_ but before she can—

“You know how I feel about you. You’ve always known, and it’s never changed.”

Kitty looks at him.

She wants to know how he got the scar under his eye.

“Last call, everyone. Last call!” Harry says behind the bar, tossing a towel over his shoulder. Behind them a barfly groans in protest, and the Ramones have stopped singing.

Pete raises his empty glass to salute her. “Well, what next, Professor Pryde?”

And it’s the way he calls her “Professor Pryde”--with solemnity and wonder, all irony and mockery in him gone along with the whiskey-- that makes her move.

“Next, Mr. Wisdom? How about this?”

She wraps his crooked tie around her fist, drawing him closer, and doesn’t let go.


End file.
